


Names

by The3rdTrumpeteer



Series: Refuge and Remedies [14]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Blood, i'm so mean to crutchie and i hate it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 01:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The3rdTrumpeteer/pseuds/The3rdTrumpeteer
Summary: Snyder will figure out the names of the newsies behind the strike. And he will do whatever he has to do to get them.





	Names

When Crutchie is dragged into Snyder’s office for the first time since he was a little kid, already bruised from what happened at the square, he’s surprised that he’s not more afraid of the man who tormented him when he was younger and has been torturing Jack for years. Instead, Crutchie is more angry than anything else. Angry at Pulitzer for raising prices and refusing to listen to his employees. Angry at the lackeys who are still holding him by the arms. Angry at Snyder for...well, a great many things at this point.

“I suppose you know why you’re here,” Snyder says, seated behind his desk.

“’Cause you’re a piece a’-”

The fist comes faster than expected, and Crutchie supposes he should be grateful that it was just one of the lackeys that hit him, and not Snyder with the sharp ring on his hand that Crutchie knows is capable of leaving more than bruises. As it is, the blow snaps Crutchie’s head to the side, and he only stays upright because of the other lackey’s tight grip on him.

“You street rats are all alike,” Snyder says. “No respect for anything.”

“You don’t deserve it!” Crutchie knows the best thing to do would probably be to keep his mouth shut, but he can’t even bring himself to care. “We ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong. We’s fightin’ for our rights!”

Snyder is standing now, a sneer on his face. “You have no rights, boy, and neither do any of your worthless little friends. Maybe a few months in here will help you see that.”

“We’s gonna win!” But Crutchie’s voice cracks, and that’s all the confirmation Snyder needs. He smiles, a twisted, evil expression on his lined face, and motions to his lackeys. “Take him to the room at the end of the hall. I’ll call you when I need him.”

 _Need me-_ Crutchie struggles against the lackeys, but of course he can’t break free, and his injuries are beginning to catch up to him. He’s tossed unceremoniously into a small room filled with kids and stinking of filth and fear, and he doesn’t have his crutch, and he can’t stand up, and  _damn it how did everything go so wrong-_

The room is nearly full to bursting, and Crutchie nearly cries when one boy approaches him and quietly offers to share his bed. He remembers that not everyone in this hellhole is so kind, and he accepts the boy’s help. It’s excruciating trying to get onto the top bunk, and when Crutchie finally makes it, he’s out of breath and hurting. His adrenaline from the fight at the square has faded, and all Crutchie wants to do is sleep.

But he doesn’t. Instead, Crutchie writes a letter using a crumpled piece of paper and stub of a pencil he found in his pocket. He knows he might not be able to get it to Jack, but it still gives him hope. Hope that he can’t afford to lose.

He’s almost done when they come for him again, pull him roughly from the top bunk and shove him out the door. But they don’t take him back to Snyder’s office. Instead, they drag him through the winding hallways and down a wooden set of stairs. Into a room Crutchie has never been in before but has heard Jack talk about many times. There are no windows, only stone walls and a concrete floor. It’s small enough that, even if Crutchie could run, he would have nowhere to go.

The lackey throws Crutchie into the tiny room and leaves. Crutchie can hear the heavy wooden door lock. He manages to sit up, stretching his bad leg out in front of him and pulling his good leg up to his chest. He doesn’t know why he’s down here, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to make it through whatever happens next.

Then the door opens, and Snyder steps inside. 

“You’re going to answer some questions, street rat.”

Crutchie frowns. “I’m not tellin’ you nothin’.”

Snyder glares at him. “I need names, boy.”

“What?”

“Are you stupid?” Snyder grabs Crutchie by the front of his shirt and shakes him. “Names! The leaders of this fruitless endeavor you’re calling a strike. Kelly can’t be the only one in charge.”

“I-I’m not givin’ away my friends!” Crutchie tries to pull away. He can’t betray the people he’s known most of his life. And he hasn’t known Davey and Les more than a few days, but they’re good people that don’t deserve what Snyder will do to them if he catches them.

“We’ll see about that.”

The soaking is brutal, and Crutchie is sure he’s going to die before it ends. But he has to stay strong. He can’t give up his friends. He can’t-

“Please!” The word is muffled by the blood in Crutchie’s mouth. His face hurts when he talks. “Please stop!”

Snyder does, releases his hold on Crutchie’s clothing and lets him crumple to the floor and stands there like he doesn’t have blood on his knuckles. “Are you going to tell me what I need to know?”

Crutchie can’t give up his friends. He can’t give up his friends. He can’t-

Crutchie nods.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: @poorguysheadisdoingwhatnow  
> my twitter: @its_spinning


End file.
